


Guess I’ll Die Then

by BabyGenius



Category: Batman - All Media Types, White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson is Neal Caffrey, Gen, Humor, Identity Reveal, Neal Caffrey is Dick Grayson, No Character Death, No Major Character Death, Poor Peter, Reveal, dw i wouldn’t do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 18:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyGenius/pseuds/BabyGenius
Summary: Dick kind of wondered if this would earn him a spot amongst the “family members that had died and been resurrected” club.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 229





	Guess I’ll Die Then

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Justadashofsarcasm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justadashofsarcasm/gifts).



> Special thanks to Justadashofsarcasm for this prompt I had a lot of fun with it and I hope I did it justice! I hope I made it funny enough lol. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Dick had known that his complete disappearance from the world wouldn’t go unnoticed, but he hadn’t expected _this_. He kind of wondered if this would earn him a spot amongst the “family members that had died and been resurrected” club.

The news on the tv said that he had been declared _dead_. He had apparently been “missing” for so long that the authorities had been forced to declare him dead. Which was kind of odd considering the rest of his family had occasionally made comments about spending time with him in order to avoid this exact situation. They said he was just trying to detach from the public eye, but apparently since they couldn’t produce any recent pictures or any way to contact him he was dead.

Which was kind of bullshit, actually, but he digressed.

What was worse, was that his family wasn’t necessarily doing much to combat this announcement. Dick knew this because he had looked. Apparently his family had better things to do (which, fair, but Dick knew that “coming back to life” after his mission with the FBI was over was going to be an absolute bitch).

“It’s a shame,” Peter commented, “I remember when he was a kid. He was involved in a lot of advocacy movements, if I remember correctly. Did a lot of good things.”

“Doesn’t his family say that they’ve hung out with him though?” Neal asked, annoyed this conversation was taking place but not showing it.

“Yeah, but you know everyone thinks they’re just hiding something. You know what billionaire types are like,” Jones pointed out.

“Or maybe he just got sick of constantly being in the public eye,” Neal retorted. He really shouldn’t be doing this, they might find it suspicious. But he felt he had an excuse since he had just died and all.

Jones snorted, obviously not agreeing but saying nothing more.

For a while, that marked the end of the conversation since Peter quickly turned them back to what they had been working on.

——

Dick obviously wasn’t dead, but the world didn’t know that. They might after tonight, though. Neal was going undercover at a gala, set to investigate a one-percenter the white collar office suspected of fraud. They hadn’t been able to gain enough proof through other means, so Peter had realized with resignation what he had to do. He, Diana, and Jones would be in the van a distance away, listening through the comm in Neal’s ear.

Peter would have thought that since Neal got to go off anklet for this one he would be happy, but he was actually being uncharacteristically quiet. Peter didn’t get a chance to ask him what was wrong, though, too caught up and frequently distracted by the preparations. Eventually, it was time. Neal flashed an obviously fake smile (which just concerned Peter more—he was slipping) before hopping gracefully out of the back of the van and adjusting his suit cuffs and the collar, closing the doors to the van with one last wink.

“Remember, we need him to confess,” Peter muttered into the comms, watching the cameras to the large venue the gala was taking place.

“Yes, Peter, I know,” Neal sighed. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, but Peter _still_ felt the need to remind him every time.

The line went silent, white noise rising as Neal neared the entrance to the gala. A loud, fake laugh disguised Neal’s voice as he gave the name he was going by on the guest list.

“I’m in.” Neal said, ducking through the doorway after flashing a smile to the security.

Peter gave a hum over the line but stayed silent otherwise.

Dick knew Bruce was likely to be here, since he had been in New York anyway for some sort of business. He sauntered over to the refreshment table, grabbing a small shrimp-thing (he knew he knew the name, but he didn’t care to remember at the moment) and taking a small bite. Fortunately, he had fiddled with his comm so Peter wouldn’t hear the sound of chewing (although sometimes he wished he hadn’t, just to spite the agent).

Dick stayed by the table for a bit, watching people engaged in misleading small-talk and the few groups that were having actual conversation. After a few minutes, he figured he had waited long enough and started making his way toward his mark. Edward Selia, who had been paying thieves to steal priceless artwork from his house so he could not only receive the tax benefits but could also sell them off on the black market for additional profit.

“Ed,” Dick greeted, a champagne flute he had picked up from a passing caterer in his hand and his face set in a small but genial smile.

Edward glanced at him, a contemptuous look on his face as he prepared to respond to whomever he thought Dick was, before his eyes widened and he scanned Dick’s face more thoroughly. Eventually, “You’ll have to excuse me, I can’t seem to recall your name.”

“Richard,” Dick said, an eyebrow raising slightly as he said it even though he hated using his full name.

He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Ed’s eyes widened even more, his eyebrows vanishing into his receding hairline. “Really. I thought you were dead.”

“You know my family said otherwise,” Dick said with a smirk.

Ed waved a hand. “Yes, well, you know what we all thought about that. You haven’t been seen in years. Is it really that hard to believe people would think you were dead? Your family got a rather nice life insurance policy, I hear.”

Dick shrugged. “Not that they needed it, but money is money, as I’m sure you know.” Dick’s smile turned conciliatory at this.

Edward grinned. “Quite.”

Dick owed this to his youthful achievement of somehow making nice with all of the sleazebags of this kind of society that Edward didn’t try the normal posturing or avoidance that he might have with others. “I hear you have something quite similar going on,” Dick said casually, taking a sip from his champagne.

Ed narrowed his eyes before smiling. “Yes. I could get you in on it, if you would like. I remember you were always a reasonable child.”

Dick laughed, nodding. “Maybe, but I’d have to know more about what I’m getting into. I may be dead but that just means I have more reason not to be caught.”

Neal thanked his experience that he gave no outward reaction when Peter’s voice said quietly over the line, “ _Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. We don’t quite have enough yet._ ”

Ed nodded. “Of course, of course. You have a phone, don’t you? I can give you an address to meet me at tonight.”

“That would be fantastic,” Dick said, pulling out his phone.

Edward put in the address on the notes app of Neal’s phone, handing it back with a sharp grin before he walked away. He had barely left before Dick was approached by a woman he remembered quite well from previous galas. She had been one of the many people who dismissed him as a charity case.

“Is that Richard I see,” she crooned. Her hair was an iridescent silver, lines spreading over her face and giving a graceful sense of age even though her eyes sparkled maliciously. “I thought you were supposed to be dead.”

Dick had never liked her, and as he got older he liked her even less as she would proposition him. “Ms. Henley.”

“ _Why does everyone think you’re dead, Neal? Did you pull another one of your schemes on this group?_ ”

Dick really needed to get out of this situation before someone called him Dick or “Mr. Grayson”.

“Rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated, as I’m sure you know,” he said instead.

“Yes, I see,” Henley crowed.

“I’m really sorry for cutting this short, ma’am, but I have to meet with someone.” Dick smiled at her charmingly. “A pleasure to see you, though.”

“Come now, _Mr. Grayson_ ,” Ms. Henley said teasingly, as Dick thought _Damn_. “You know my feelings about calling me ma’am. It’s Elizabeth.”

Dick smiled, faking sheepishness. “Of course, _Elizabeth_. My apologies. I really do have to be going, though. I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

“ _Mr. Grayson?_ ” Peter asked, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Dick groaned. He knew it had been a desperate hope to wish that Peter hadn’t heard that, but he had hoped nonetheless. He was debating the merits of ignoring that anything had just happened and forcing Peter to drop it when he felt someone clap their arm around his shoulder.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, chum,” Brucie Wayne said brightly, spinning Dick around and pulling him into a brief side hug.

“Bruce,” Dick said. “I know you know what you’re doing.” After all, Bruce would have seen the comm in Dick’s ear and known that he was here on assignment. Which meant his guardian had deliberately decided to break his cover just a little bit more. Never let it be said Bruce Wayne didn’t have a sense of humor, or spite. Dick just knew this was his way of getting back at him for missing so many family dinners. He _knew_.

Bruce allowed the façade to drop. “Yes, well, we figured it was time.” So he had consulted Alfred and the family about this. “You’ll want to leave through the back to avoid the reporters.”

Dick grimaced. “Thanks.”

“We’ll be coming over for dinner sometime soon to catch up. It’s been a while.” _I’ve been worried._

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later?”

Bruce allowed the mask to slip back on, tossing on a bright smile and laughing. “Of course you will.” He clapped Dick on the shoulder one last time before moving on, and Dick slipped through the crowd toward the back.

“ _I hope you know we’ll expect answers,_ ” Peter said.

Dick sighed, even though he knew that wouldn’t fix any of his problems. “Yeah, I know.”

——

“D’you want to tell me why they know you as Mr. Grayson? Someone who was declared dead a few months ago?” Peter asked, sitting at the head of the conference table with Hughes and the rest of the team surrounding him.

Neal winced. “In my defense, I wasn’t expecting to be declared dead. It’s not my fault the authorities didn’t listen to my family.”

“For that matter, why would you become a thief when your father is a billionaire?” Hughes asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neal shrugged. “Neal Caffrey was an undercover alias. Most of my alleged jobs were for the Justice League. They didn’t want anyone knowing about it though, since some of them would have become really dangerous if the media caught wind of their importance.”

“The _Justice League_?” Diana asked in disbelief. “So I bet you know Wonder Woman, then,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, Aunt Diana.” At their skeptical expressions Dick shrugged. “It’s not a well-known fact, but Bruce is a major benefactor of the League. My family is pretty close with them as a result.”

Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had known that with Neal going undercover at a gala he couldn’t expect a quiet day, but he hadn’t been expecting _this_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? I survive off of comments and kudos. Just a warning I don’t always have the energy to respond (and I also completely understand if you don’t have the energy to make a comment, either), but I read them all and they all brighten up my day. I will also admit I shamelessly go back and read them on bad days.
> 
> I hope this finds you all happy and healthy.


End file.
